


New Kid

by pandexual



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Trans Male Character, new kid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-17 19:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3540740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandexual/pseuds/pandexual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tucker finally gets a chance at having people see him for who he truly is.</p><p>He just has to stop making bad first impressions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. PREVIEW

**Author's Note:**

> the future chapters will be longer than this, i just had to write it down before i forgot.
> 
> think of it like a teaser trailer

“Laila!”

Ugh, Tucker fucking hates his given name. It represents everything that he's not.

But he answers it anyway, turning away from the dingy little apartment he once called home. “Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.”

“Honey, you should be excited about this!” his mother pipes up, patting the passenger seat of her car as an invitation to get inside. “A new home, a new start.”

Tucker gets in the car and looks out the window as his mother drives off, chattering excitedly about how beautiful the house they’ll be moving into is.

Well, hey, maybe moving across the fucking state will be a good thing. Tucker figures he can leave his old self behind, and it’ll be easy to get people to call him by his last name. He always liked the sound of it more than he did his first name anyway.

His hand claws at his chest, and at the awkward lumpiness of it and he sighs.

Yeah, he needs a fresh start.


	2. CHAPTER 1

Holy shit this house was nice.

Tucker’s jaw dropped when his mother parks in front of the near mansion, grinning at him. “Well, here we are!”

“This is. This is ours?” Tucker just gaped at it, before staring back at his mother.

She nodded, unlocking the car. “Go on in, pick a room! This place has three rooms, so whichever one you don’t want we can use for the guest room.”

This was a way bigger upgrade than his shitty two bedroom apartment. Tucker scrambled out of the car and into the house, and shit man it had that new house smell. He darted up the stairs and into the first bedroom he saw because even though he was excited to see the house he had to settle in first.

Part of that settling in included dumping the contents of his luggage onto the bed, locating his trusty chest binder, and putting it on. Oh god that was way better. Really, Tucker didn’t want to wear it in the car and have to face a dreadful hours-long conversation about it.

There was a mirror in there, too, so Tucker stood in front of it and looked at himself.

“World, meet Tucker. Hello world.” Yes. Yes he liked this a lot. He picked at the dreads hanging down to his mid-chest and wondered if he should get a haircut. Well, he could always look it up online. Or just be one of those cool hot guys with ass length dreads.

Tucker turned to go downstairs, but his gaze flitted out the window when he saw movement in the corner of his eye. Right, neighbors were people that existed in the suburbs.

Behind the window of the house directly across from Tucker’s, a teen looking boy was walking around the room. Tucker poked his head out to say hi, but before he could the boy took off his shirt. Boy howdy did Tucker have a hot neighbor. Before Tucker could think twice, he was wolf whistling and laughing a little.

“Bow chicka bow wow! Loving the view, dude.”

The boy turned, eyes wide like a deer in fucking headlights. Then his face was red, he was covering himself, and he was shutting the window and curtains.

Damn, he was kind of enjoying that.

At least he knew which room he wanted now.

Tucker was still kind of giddy about his situation as a whole when he went downstairs, figuring he’d get the rest of his stuff eventually. His mother was in the bright, pretty kitchen, setting down cardboard box after box and yeah he should probably help now.

“Well, I got my room,” Tucker told her, looking at the boxes to see if any were his.

“Oh, good. We’re just going to have pizza for dinner, because.” His mother outstretched her arms and beckoned around the kitchen. “This’ll take me a while.”

“I’ll help you out,” he offered, leaning against the counter.

“Thanks, honey.” She patted Tucker’s shoulder, and the glance to his flat chest didn’t go unnoticed. “All of your boxes are in the trunk of the van. I wanted to keep them all together, so.”

Tucker shrugged casually and started for the front door. “Nah, it’s fine. Thanks mom.”

It was tough work lugging 9 billion pound boxes up a flight of stairs over and over, but eventually he did it. He wiped his brow and stretched, groaning at the fact that he was going to have to unpack everything.

He felt weird, like he was being watched, but when he turned the only thing there was the white cat in the windowsill of the neighboring house.

“Stupid cat,” he murmured, turning back to his boxes.

* * *

"Laila?"

Tucker flinched and turned around from his cross-legged position of his crowded floor to look back at his mom. "Yeah?"

It had been a few days since they moved in and it was nice. Tucker hadn't seen the neighbor guy change again, or really at all considering the damn kid kept his curtains shut all the time. But the house smelled good and the sunsets here were beautiful and the local pizza place had really fucking good breadsticks, so. It was all right.

Tucker's mother twirled a lock of her dark hair in her finger, looking a bit conflicted. "The Washingtons have invited us over for dinner. A welcome to the neighborhood meal, you could say."

The Washingtons, huh? Sounded like a bunch of movie-esque suburban white people. "Our neighbors?" he asked.

His mom nodded. "They have a boy your age, and you'll go to school with him. Maybe you two could get friendly so you know at least someone there."

Even the thought of school made Tucker wanna vomit. But he nodded because holy shit what if it was the cute neighbor boy. "Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. When's dinner?"

“In an hour. You should get dressed in something nice,” she suggested as she left.

“Something nice my ass,” Tucker muttered. The only semi-formal clothes he had were really feminine and he was definitely not showing himself like that anymore.

The closest thing he could get to nice was a pair of black jeans and a teal button up. He slipped on his white sneakers and checked himself out in the mirror. Good enough. He cleared his throat, trying to deepen his voice.

“Hey, I’m Tucker. No, shit. Yo, Tucker here. Mm. The name’s Tucker.”

He’d get it eventually. For now, he looked pretty confident which is what really mattered.

He hoped he wouldn't royally fuck everything up, because honestly?

He couldn't afford to.

 

 


	3. CHAPTER 2

Washington didn't want to meet his neighbors.

But oh, no, his parents insisted, saying the Tuckers were lovely looking people and it was the hospitable thing to do.

Wash sighed and ran his hands through the fur of the cat curled up in his lap. Times like these he was glad to have Epsilon, his one true friend. He didn't need any more friends than that, really.

The doorbell rang and his mother sang out that she would get the door. Epsilon hissed and clawed at Washington's lap as he jumped off and bolted out of the room. Well, this would be lovely.

Wash stood, and hey maybe he would make it up the stairs before they made it inside. He ducked through the kitchen and around the door and

"Hey, hot stuff."

Oh god the other kid was already on the stairs. Lounging, really, but it was more as if she was waiting for Wash. It gave him weird shivers down his spine.

He had to be polite, though, shifting as he wondered how he would get past without being incredibly rude. "It's Washington."

"Dude, who the fuck names their kid Washington Washington?" she said, sitting up a bit more and smirking.

"Well, it's David, but I'd rather be called Washington, or Wash, miss..." He shifted, tugging at the collar of his dress shirt.

Her expression hardened a bit. "Just call me Tucker. Or sir, whatever floats your boat."

Oh. Oh shit.

Washington's cheeks flushed in embarrassment and he went a little stiff. "Oh my god I'm so sorry I-"

"Dude, it's fine, I get it." Tucker looked deflated and Wash felt absolutely terrible.

"No, no I should've asked." He slowly stuck out his hand to Tucker. "It's nice to meet you, Tucker."

Tucker sat up a little and took his hand. A spark went up Wash's arm and he looked to see Tucker grinning as they shook hands. "Same, Wash."

Washington gulped a little, hesitating before pulling his hand away. "Now if you excuse me, I have to go find my cat."

"Right. Thing always gives me a death glare from your window, the little shit." Tucker shifted over on the stairs and looked expectantly up at Wash. "Could help play bait for you."

"Really? Thank you, yeah." Wash offered a small smile to Tucker, who returned it with his own crooked one.

The next ten minutes were spent chasing Epsilon from room to room until they ended up in Wash's room with a few scratches here and there.

"Yknow, my room looks way different from here," Tucker remarked, taking a seat on Wash's bed and gesturing towards the window.

"I would imagine," Wash replied as he joined him on the bed.

Tucker flashed another smile at him. "Your rooms pretty cool, though."

Wash felt his cheeks heat and he glanced down at his hands in his lap. "Thank you, Tucker."

When he looked back up he gulped because wow were they close. Tucker was leaning in a bit too close for comfort but Wash was leaning too and his gaze dropped to the other boy's lips and

"Hey kids, dinner's ready," came Wash's dad's voice from down the hall.

Wash flinched away, standing up quickly. "Right. Dinner. That's a thing."

"Sure is," Tucker said with a laugh, running a hand over his shoulder as he passed Wash to go back downstairs.

Wash shuddered, goosebumps pricking at his arms.

Oh he was so fucked.


	4. CHAPTER 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god........... im so sorry whenever im inspired to write im not at home and then i have 90 other things to worry about and just. clenches fists here it is

Well, school could definitely be worse.

The day went as regularly as any other, but during each roll call the teachers asked each student for some kind of “nickname” that they preferred to call themselves by. He was glad to let the teachers know that he went by his last name and there were hardly any questions asked. Apparently that was a trend with this place.

One such person that followed this trend was one Leonard Church. Apparently he was named after his dad (an egotistical bastard, Tucker’s told) and didn’t want to have to hear his father’s mark wherever he went. Tucker was told this during one of those dumb get-to-know-you activities that the English teachers make the students do on the first week of school. Instead of trading stories about their summers, Tucker and Church became quick acquaintances by complaining about their given names.

In PE, Tucker learned that the two boys practically glued at the hip were Grif and Simmons. Yeah, in that class they called the students by their last names anyway, but Simmons didn’t like being made fun of for “Dick” and Grif reasoned that “Dexter is a name for fuckin’ losers.” Tucker asked if they were a couple, and with hesitant glances at each other, they said no.

Michael J. Caboose is a work of nature all on his own. They didn’t share any classes together, but when Church invited Tucker to sit with them, Caboose was reluctant to “share Church” and Tucker assured that Caboose could have Church all to his own. Church looked mortified.

A girl named Carolina joined them too, as apparently she was Church's older sister. Tucker recognized her from his art class and since she gave off the vibe that she could snap his neck, he decided not to hit on her. She seemed to approve of him.

It was disappointing that Tucker didn’t see Washington until their last class. Some part of him hoped that they’d share every class, but there was a really low chance that that would actually happen. Chemistry was a stupid class anyway. The worst thing was that Wash was weirdly quiet, sitting right in the front when told that they could choose their seats. Tucker sat next to him because let’s face it, he didn’t fucking know anyone else.

“So how was the first day for you?” he asked Wash when the teacher began roll call.

Wash flinched, picking at his paper and looking at the teacher instead of Tucker. “Sh,” he mumbled back.

“Dude, come on, we’re both at the ass-end of the alphabet, we have a minute,” Tucker muttered, but he obviously got the message that Wash was a listener and kept his trap shut.

They didn’t talk again until there was a partner activity and Wash looked around. Apparently he didn’t know anyone either so with a sigh (that he thought Tucker wouldn’t notice), he turned towards Tucker.

“Wash, what’s with the stick up your ass?” Tucker asked.

Washington’s cheeks tinted and he bit the inside of his cheek. “There’s not a stick up my ass.”

“There’s definitely a stick up your ass.”

“Is not!”

"Is too."

Their teacher passed them by as she gave them the activity’s worksheet and they stopped talking about the stick up Washington’s ass. The worksheet was easy enough and Tucker was glad that the time they were given to do it took up the rest of class. He kept trying to talk to Wash and, slowly, Wash seemed to melt back down to the boy Tucker had first met at his house.

When the bell rang Tucker gathered his stuff and stood. He sat on Washington’s desk, idly pulling at one of his dreads. “How do you get home?” he asked.

“I walk,” Wash said, quick to pack up his things and give Tucker an expectant look.

“Dude, same. Mom works till later and shit. We should walk together.”

Wash pressed his lips together before he slowly nodded and stood up. “Yeah, okay.”

The walk to their houses was quiet. Not at first, with them talking for a few blocks until they both ran out of things to say, but eventually they fell into a peaceful quiet. Their hands both swung and brushed against each other a few times, and each time Tucker smiled a bit more.

* * *

“You didn't wear that to school, did you? That sports bra thing?”

Tucker flinched, his arms loaded with the snacks he was going to eat. Coincidentally, his mother had come home around the same time. He wished she had questioned the amount of food he was nabbing instead.

“It's a binder, Mom. So what if I did?” he asked. “I made some friends and didn't get in any trouble.”

His mom relaxed a bit at that. “Still, you’re not going to be able to fit in with any of the other girls wearing that.”

Tucker flinched again, turning his head and muttering. “I thought that was obvious. I can’t.”

“They're just other girls, Laila. What do you mean, you can’t?”

He bit his lip, unable to answer her question. He backed out of the kitchen, quickly darted up the stairs, and locked himself in his room.

“Laila!”

He put the food down, his eyes stinging and his appetite gone. He knew she wouldn’t understand if he just told her outright, and would support him if she did understand, but Tucker would have to be the one to make her understand if he was ever going to be who he wanted to be. The paranoia ate at his gut and he swallowed the lump in his throat.

He was going to have to tell his mom eventually. He had to. But not today.

Tucker looked up and wiped his eyes, finding that they were wet. He looked out his window, freezing when he saw that Washington was standing in the window opposite and staring at Tucker. Tucker closed his blinds and shut his eyes tight.

Yeah, definitely not today.


End file.
